


Edges

by Naralanis



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Blade Runner AU, F/F, I may or may not be a little bit drunk, Replicant Lena, here ya go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/pseuds/Naralanis
Summary: In which Kara Danvers is a Blade Runner, Lena Luthor is a Replicant, and Lex Luthor is... Lex Luthor.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Edges

**Author's Note:**

> OK this probably has been done before, but I watched Blade Runner last week and this scene has been rattling around in my brain and I am just tipsy enough to justify writing this whole thing in a random-ass notebook, typing it up, and posting it on the same day. 
> 
> Any typos are not my fault, but Johnnie's. Johnnie Walker's. 
> 
> Leaving it as complete for now, but IDK, may make more of these. Who tf knooows, not meee

“Do you like our owl?” 

The voice comes out of nowhere, and admittedly scares Kara enough that she startles the bird in turn, sending it flying in a flutter of beating wings and displeased hoots/ 

Her eyes follow the owl's trajectory through the opulent waiting room, up until it lands a bit ungracefully on a perch by the door she had come through. There's a woman there now, impeccably dressed and a prim, severe demeanor. Her jet-black hair is pulled tight into a ponytail; her eyes are a captivating green, and there's a full, manicured brow raised in question. 

“I do,” Kara says, clearing her throat and not looking at the bird at all. “Is it real?" 

A little smile tugs at the woman's wine-red lips, and she lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course,” she says, as if the question is entirely absurd, green eyes shimmering in the light. “Do you think Mr. Luthor would have a fake owl in his waiting room?” 

Kara shrugs. “Must have been expensive.” 

The woman's smile widens. “Incredibly so,” she quips, motioning to the door. “If you would follow me, Ms. Danvers; Mr. Luthor is ready for you now.” 

“Right, right, thank you,” Kara says, reaching for her briefcase and hastening to follow. “Thank you, Ms...?” 

The smile turns into a smirk, as if the woman seems to be enjoying playing with Kara as the blonde quickens her pace to follow after the echoing click of her heels. “Luthor,” she says cheekily. “But you can call me Lena.” 

Kara almost stops dead in her tracks; she has to make a conscious effort to keep following after her. “Luthor?” she repeats dumbly, unable to conceal her surprise. “Are you a relative of Mr. Luthor?” 

“His sister.” 

Kara has to process that information for a second; none of the files she had been given on Lex Luthor mentioned any living family, especially not a sister. 

“I didn't know Lex Luthor had a sister,” she admits. 

There's a twitch to Lena's upper lip, but it's gone in the blink of an eye. “I prefer to be... behind the scenes, so to speak,” she says. Her gaze abruptly turns to Kara, and yet her steps do not falter for even a moment. “Tell me, Ms. Danvers, have you been a Blade Runner long?” 

Kara's brows furrow before she can help it. “For some time.” 

“You must have retired quite a few Replicants.” 

It wasn't a question, and Kara was not sure if she should treat it like one. “Some,” she said simply. She has never particularly enjoyed her job; it was just one of those things that had to be done, and something she happened to be more than competent at. Nothing more. 

“What are your thoughts on them?” Lena presses on. 

“Replicants?” Kara asks. The line of questioning throws her for a loop. “I have no thoughts one way or the other; they're... machines, for good or for bad.” 

Lena nods, though her expression is unreadable. “And if they're... not good, it is your job to retire them.” 

That was definitely not a question, Kara thinks. “Yes.” 

“You must be quite good at spotting them.” 

That also isn't a question, but Kara cannot think of a response before they reach an impressive set of heavy doors that look to be made of real wood. If Luthor has a real owl, it stands to reason that these would be real wood. Lena stops right at the threshold, shooting Kara an odd look that the blonde cannot process immediately, because they walk into a spacious office, and there, at the end of a long conference table, sits the man, the legend himself, in all his glory. 

“Kara Danvers,” Lex Luthor greets them jovially, in a cheerful voice that inexplicably sends a chill down Kara's spine. “Thank you for showing her in, Lena.” 

Lena gives him a polite nod, not leaving her post by the doors. 

“Mr. Luthor,” Kara says, already reaching a hand out for him to shake, wanting to get this over as soon as possible for reasons she cannot presently fathom. Something about Lex just rubs her the wrong way, and she tries not to let that show as he approaches and shakes her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, I understand you're quite a busy man.” 

He grins, and Kara doesn't like it one bit. “Please, call me Lex. Of course, of course, anything I can do to help.” 

Kara squares her shoulders, getting right down to business. “Well, Mr. Luthor—Lex--as you know, we'd like to establish a few baselines for your Nexus-6 model to help us with an ongoing investigation. I was hoping to...” 

“All in good time, Ms. Danvers. Patience, patience. I'll help you with your little investigation however I can—if you can answer a few questions of mine first.” 

She has to fight the uncomfortable feeling that manifests in the pit of her stomach. She's dimly aware of Lena's green gaze fixed on her and Luthor, interested, curious. 

“That little test of yours... capillary dilation of the so-called blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil, involuntary dilation of the iris?” 

“We call it Voight-Kampff for short,” Kara says, brow raised in question. 

“I must admit I am rather curious, Ms. Danvers. Tell me, have you ever retired a human by mistake?” 

“No,” she says quickly. “Mr. Luthor, what exactly is the purpose...” 

“But it is a risk, in your profession,” he interrupts. “Is it not?” 

Kara frowns. “What is your point, Mr. Luthor?” 

Lex's grinning sets her teeth on edge. “The Nexus-6 is the pride and joy of my corporation, Ms. Danvers—the most advanced model ever put on the market. And yet, they still have flaws—fatal flaws, that caused the ones you're hunting to go... off the rails, so to speak.” 

He seems to take Kara's silence as encouragement to keep going, and does just that, pacing in a way that unnerves her. “You see, they lack certain capabilities, certain... nuances that you and I are privileged to possess that we simply have not been able to reproduce artificially. Empathy, emotional maturity. They are, I hate to say it, woefully underdeveloped in that regard.” 

“I am well aware, Mr. Luthor,” Kara interjects, annoyed that this man—a genius though he may be—is speaking to her as if hunting down those machines wasn't literally her job description. “That's why they have a failsafe.” 

Luthor nods, and his expression remains unreadable, even if his unsettling smile is still very much in place. “Yes,” he confirms, stopping and holding the back of his chair. “The four-year lifespan. Tell me, Ms. Danvers, have you ever performed your little empathy test on a human subject?” 

“No.” 

His grin grows wider. “Lovely. I would love a demonstration, if you would be so kind to indulge me.” 

Kara frowns. “Mr. Luthor, I'm here to acquire a new baseline for the Nexus-6 models so as to better understand...” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” he waves her off. “I won't stop you from doing your job, Ms. Danvers. I would simply like to see a negative result before I provide you with a positive one. Is that agreeable?” 

Kara feels her knuckles tightening around the handle of her briefcase; she wants this to be over. 

“Very well. I assume you will be the subject, Mr. Luthor?” 

His eyes glimmer in a way that makes Kara's stomach turn. “Try Lena.” 

Lena seems just as surprised as Kara feels at the suggestion, but does a remarkably better job of hiding it and regaining her composure. The clicking of her heels approaches immediately after Lex summons her, and her expression is completely neutral by the time she takes a seat at the table. 

The brunette eyes Kara with a raised brow breaking her schooled expression, looking almost forcibly nonchalant. She pulls out a cigarette as Kara takes her time unloading and setting up her equipment, still very much aware of Lena's watchful green gaze. 

“Do you mind if I smoke, Ms. Danvers?” she asks, and it sounds almost teasing. 

The machine whirrs to life, and Kara contains a heavy sigh at the unshakeable feeling that she has walked straight into a trap of some kind. 

Her gaze locks onto Lena's hypnotizing green irises, and she flicks the button to start. 

“It shouldn't affect the test.” 

* * *

Kara's back is sore from leaning into the Voight-Kampff apparatus, and her eyes sting from the strain of looking through the visor for so long. It feels like hours have passed, but she's afraid of actually checking the time. She shuts off the machine with a strained huff as she rolls her shoulders and arches her back, feeling her spine pop pleasurably at the stretch. She blinks away the strain and dryness of her eyes, taking her time to sink back into her chair, and tries to give her mind a few precious extra moments to fully comprehend what she has just uncovered. 

Lex had not moved a muscle during the entirety of the test; he's still sitting unnaturally still by the time Kara shuts off her equipment. Lena eyes her curiously, lips pulled into a taut line. 

“Lena, if you would please excuse us a moment.” 

Kara deliberately looks at her equipment, putting it away methodically and slowly, but for a moment she catches a hint of displeasure that flits across Lena's face at Lex's command. The brunette hesitates for only a second, but complies. Kara's heart beats in tandem with the fading staccato of Lena's heels, and once the door finally clicks closed behind the other woman, she tries to speak, only to find the words stuck to her throat. 

Lex regards her knowingly, his expression—his smirk—shifting into something conspiratorial, as if he had just let her in on a great big joke. 

“Well,” he says with obvious satisfaction, slapping his hands on the table. “I must say, I am impressed. That was rather... illuminating.” 

“She's a Replicant.” Kara finally bites out, shutting the apparatus closed in its case with a bit more force than she intended. She stares down Luthor, probably doing a piss-poor job of concealing her inexplicable anger, but unable to bring herself to care. She wants him to deny it. She wants him to tell her that her equipment must be faulty; hell, she wants him to tell her that she is just plain wrong and that she sucks at her job. She wants anything but the truth she's still presently still struggling to fully comprehend. 

“Well-observed, Ms. Danvers.” he says simply, nonchalantly. 

“She doesn't know,” Kara murmur, unsure if to herself or to Luthor. 

He shrugs, looking entirely unbothered. “I think she's beginning to suspect—I made her into a rather intelligent prototype, after all,” he explains, drumming his fingers casually on the solid wood of his conference table. “Tell me, Ms. Danvers, how many questions does it usually take you to, as some policemen so eloquently put it, ‘sniff out a skin-job,’ eh?” 

Kara grits her teeth, “Twenty to thirty questions, cross-referenced, depending on the model,” she answers by rote. “How can she not... how can it not know what it is?” 

Lex's smirk is unbearably smug. “It took you over a hundred for Lena, didn't it?” 

Kara has to focus on unclenching her fists for a moment. “Yes,” she confirms, turning a flinty gaze to Luthor as she repeats her question. “How?” 

“’ _More Human than Human’_ , Ms. Danvers—that is the motto here at LuthorCorp. Our goal is commerce; it's that simple. Lena is... an experiment. Nothing more.” 

He stands, walking around the table tos top directly in front of Kara. 

“The Nexus-6 is quite a marvel of bio-engineering, Ms. Danvers, if I do say so myself,” he begins again, voice laced with deliberate false-modesty. “Nevertheless, I began to observe in them certain behaviours, certain... strange obsessions. They are, after all, stunted, in a way; they are emotionally inexperienced. That’s to be expected; after all, they only have a few years to store and process experiences that take a lifetime to build, experiences that you and I may take for granted.” 

His eyes glimmer in the low light of the room, pupils dilating in a way that takes Kara's mind back to the test she just performed; she wants to smash her machine to smithereens for reasons she cannot fathom. 

“It's what makes them unstable, you see. If, however, we gift them with a past—any past—we create a cushion; a safety net for their emotional development, and thus, we can control them far better.” 

Kara's eyes widen; she feels her throat go dry. “Memories,” she whispers. “You mean... you mean you're giving them memories.” 

Lex chuckles, looking increasingly pleased with himself. “Bingo! With this process, we have better control over them. Who knows, perhaps we'll even be able to increase their lifespan, in time. They're quite expensive to make; it's such a shame they have such a short shelf-life.” 

Kara opens her mouth, then closes it again, finding it difficult to form coherent sentences. 

“What memories are you even giving them—she, she thinks she's your sister!” she finally croaks out. 

Lex waves her off, unperturbed. “The source of the memories is inconsequential, Ms. Danvers. They can be fairytales, for all I care,” he says, and for the first time, as he regards Kara curiously, he looks... annoyed. “In Lena's case, I wanted them to be as real, as tangible as possible. Implanting some of my own memories—easily recalled, and easily corroborated with minimal tweaking—was the simplest course of action.” 

Kara's not sure why the mere idea of memory implantation makes her sick to her stomach; she feels her hands balling into fists and jaw clenching so tightly she can practically hear the grind of her own teeth. Green eyes and questioning glances flash back to her mind, and Lex regards her pensively for a long moment. His smile fades by degrees, until his lips pull into a thin line, and for the first time, he looks displeased. 

“Remember, Ms. Danvers,” he says, brows furrowing in clear distaste. “She's an experiment. Nothing more.” 


End file.
